King's Awakening-Chapter 743 - : Battle with Moore the Protector - Part 3

Chapter 743: Chapter 743: Battle with Moore the Protector – Part 3

The Dark Energy spun like a black vortex, overwhelming White Mitchell as it surged towards him. The air was teeming with the stench of decay and the odour of death. He shuddered, on the verge of collapsing.

However, White Mitchell’s resolve did not waver. Harnessing the power of his sword, he sprang forth like a leaping dragon, fearlessly charging towards the Dark Energy.

The collision of his sword Qi and Dark Energy emitted a deafening crash. White Mitchell felt a powerful force propel him away, slamming him hard onto the ground, causing a mouthful of fresh blood to spew out.

Pain and weakness rendered White Mitchell nearly immobilized, yet he painstakingly pulled himself up, gripping his sword tightly. He knew this was his last chance to end the battle swiftly.

White Mitchell took a deep breath, his eyes glimmering with unwavering conviction, once more releasing a powerful Sword Intent. He took steps towards Protector Moore, his sword radiating with magnificent light.

Protector Moore watched the scene and couldn’t help but furrow his brows. He hadn’t expected White Mitchell to possess such unwavering fighting spirit, realising that their decisive battle had come.

...

The Dark Energy surged around Protector Moore again, forming a sturdy dark wall in an attempt to obstruct White Mitchell’s progress. However, spurred by courage, White Mitchell pierced through the dark wall without flinching.

Holding his sword, White Mitchell plunged all his strength into the attack hoping to defeat Moore in one blow. Yet, Moore was not perturbed; he morphed into a dark shadow, swiftly evading White Mitchell’s attack.

Protector Moore’s speed was remarkably high, nearly exceeding the reaction ability of White Mitchell. Moore constantly circled Mitchell, leaving a permutation of shadows flitting in the air.

White Mitchell felt completely drained. He put his all into chasing Protector Moore, but was unable to trap him. Moore’s Dark Energy showed no signs of depleting, attacking White Mitchell again and again. Fresh wounds were slashed on to Mitchell’s body.

White Mitchell strove to withstand the impact of the Dark Energy, but he gradually felt his strength failing. His vision began to blur, his legs lost their strength and his breath became strained and laboured.

Suddenly, an explosive crash broke the silence. Looking up, White Mitchell saw Protector Moore unleash his ultimate move — the Dark Realm.

The world around them suddenly plunged into deep darkness, seeming as if they had fallen into an unbounded abyss. White Mitchell felt his entire body enveloped by the Dark Energy, unable to escape.

Within the Dark Realm, White Mitchell was akin to a solitary boat floating in a dark and desolate sea. He felt sapped of strength, immobilised. The Dark Energy ceaselessly eroded his body, causing him intense agony.

Despite this, White Mitchell did not yield. He took a deep breath, trying his utmost to fend off the erosion of the Dark Energy. He knew that only by finding a way to break through the Dark Realm will he have a chance at survival.

White Mitchell recollected his past cultivation experiences. He recalled a solution: the light within his heart. The Dark Power couldn’t resist the illumination of sunlight. If he could find the brightest and purest light within his heart, he could break the shackles of darkness.

White Mitchell focused his attention, searching deeper into his heart. Amidst the world of darkness, he found a miniscule speck of light. He fixed his gaze on this light, infusing it with his faith and will.

Gradually, the light grew brighter and brighter, illuminating the entire Dark Realm. The Dark Energy was held back by this shred of light, as White Mitchell felt strength surge back into his body.

White Mitchell lifted his sword, taking strong, deliberate steps forward. His body was once again filled with strength and courage, the sword gleaming brilliantly like fire, slicing through the Dark Realm.

Upon sensing changes within the Dark Realm, Protector Moore wore an expression of terror. His Dark Energy started to wane, his once overwhelming might crumbled away.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

White Mitchell seized the opportunity to launch a fierce attack. His sword strikes were swift and keen, akin to a torrential downpour of rain.

Every sword strike carried immense power, making the air explode upon contact. Protector Moore was forced to keep retreating, trying to regain his footing.

White Mitchell’s offensive remained relentless. Relying on his own strength and experience, he continuously sought out Moore’s weaknesses, providing opportunities for a fatal blow. Sword light whirls in the air, the tip of the sword and Moore’s body always maintaining a hair’s breadth distance, throwing Moore into disarray.

Protector Moore furrowed his brows, his eyes seething with anger. Grinding his teeth, he once again mobilized his strength and resolutely resisted. The dark forces surged into his body once more, shrouding the entire battlefield in darkness again.

White Mitchell narrowed his eyes, sensing the resurgence of darkness. He knew that he must give his all to defeat Protector Moore. He silently recites his mental method; his body’s energy started to rotate, reluctantly resisting the onslaught of darkness.

A hint of satisfaction surfaced on Moore’s face as his Dark energy had significantly intensified. He scoffed, thrusting his chest out, ready to face White Mitchell’s attack.

White Mitchell’s blows fell like an abrupt storm, his sword light weaving back and forth, extremely aggressive. He moved quickly, continuously switching the direction and height of his attacks, attempting to find Moore’s weakness.

However, Protector Moore appeared to be well anticipated, moving like a swimming dragon, leaping and agilely navigating the ground, leaving no opportunities for White Mitchell. Moore’s moves and reaction were far beyond Mitchell’s expectation, posing a great threat to him.

White retreated continuously, gritting his teeth and racking his brains to think of a counterstrategy. He understood that the current situation was extremely dire and he needed to turn the tide now. He continuously adjusted his breath, concentrated his mind, watching every move of Protector Moore, attempting to find a weak point.

Suddenly, White Mitchell’s eyes lit up, noticing a lapse in Moore’s defence. A thought flashed in Mitchell’s mind and he immediately adjusted the direction of his attack, targeting that loophole.

He quickly initiated an attack, his sword tip aimed straight at Moore’s chest. Moore was viciously stabbed by White Mitchell; the blade pierced his flesh and blood splattered down.

Moore grimaced in pain, his body violently trembling. Dark Energy amassed at the wound, trying to seal the damage, but White Mitchell’s Sword Qi ravaged within, continually invading.

Moore struggled painfully, trying to draw out the sword tip. However, he found that it was stubbornly embedded deep within his flesh and utterly impossible to remove.

White Mitchell, witnessing this, felt a surge of joy and immediately seized the opportunity to launch a more aggressive assault. His swordsmanship became more furious, every offensive aimed to widen Moore’s wound and destabilize the Dark Energy.

Moore roared in pain, endurable the torment, and strived to counterattack. Dark Energy in his body spun at high speed, forming a Dark Vortex that lunged at White Mitchell.

White Mitchell’s eyes hardened, and he raised his sword. A surging Sword Qi shot out, violently colliding with the Dark Vortex. The two powerful forces intertwined, causing a terrifying fluctuation of energy in the air.

After a brief clash, the Dark Vortex was shattered by White Mitchell’s Sword Qi and disappeared into oblivion. White Mitchell immediately closed in swiftly, the sword light once again fiercely aiming for Moore.

Moore was forced to retreat again, the sword light grazed his cheek, and blood immediately dripped down his face. His eyes revealed a ferocious look, a blend of despair and anger.

Facing White Mitchell’s ferocious onslaught, Moore felt he had no place to retreat. He was already driven into a corner by White Mitchell.

But on the brink of life and death, Moore exhibited his true strength. His entire body emitted an incredible amount of Dark Energy, black mist filled the air, and the Dark Aura hit White Mitchell like a massive wave.

White Mitchell was repelled by the Dark Aura, reigniting his will to fight. He put forth his full strength, launched another offensive, trying to bring down Moore.

However, this time Moore’s Dark Energy was stronger than ever before. Each of his attacks carried terrifying power, making it hard for White Mitchell to resist.

White Mitchell struggled to respond, his body was already wounded in many places, blood seeping through his clothing. But he clenched his teeth, didn’t dare to stop for a moment, and continued his intense duel with Moore.

Time passed by every minute and second, the scene grew increasingly brutal. Both of them exchanged blows, and it was a stalemate. Sword light and darkness intertwined, forming a bloody yet spectacular painting.

White Mitchell felt his own fatigue, he knew he had reached his limit. But he had no thoughts of giving up, but rather, his belief was even more resolute. He took a deep breath, his body’s blood and Qi once again circulated, his body filled with boundless energy.

“Moore, I will cut you down today!” White Mitchell roared silently, the sword light instantly exploded with a stronger radiance.

Moore had already sunk into despair, but he struggled madly, trying to maximize the Dark Energy.

White Mitchell and Moore were once again in a tense standoff, brimming with momentum. Their figures shone under the moonlight, the sword light and Dark Aura interwove into a beautiful yet brutal scene.

This life-or-death battle, had entered its climax. Their power collided with each other, causing the surrounding earth to tremble. Their gazes met, and both could see the determination and stubbornness in each other’s eyes.

Finally, White Mitchell’s sword light, like a Sky Thunder, slashed fiercely toward Moore. Moore could no longer resist and collapsed weakly onto the ground, his body shattered beyond repair.

White Mitchell stood before Moore, his heart filled with the joy of victory. His lifted his head, gazing at the bright stars in the sky, his heart filled with hope and resolution for the future.

However, the old saying, “a skinny camel is still bigger than a horse,” once again showed its validity.

Just when White Mitchell thought victory was within reach, Moore suddenly erupted with an unthinkable power. In an instant, he stood up from the ground, Dark Energy crazily flowing into his body, restoring him to his most potent state.

Caught in surprise, Moore had already launched another attack. His sword techniques were as swift as the wind and as sharp as a rain of swords, making White Mitchell barely able to parry.

White Mitchell was tired in body and mind, no longer with the sharp swordsmanship of before. As Moore pressured him time and time again, White Mitchell was unable to launch another counterattack.

“White Mitchell, it seems you are not strong enough after all.” Moore sneered, the Dark Energy in his hand formed a massive Dark Orb that sped toward White Mitchell.

White Mitchell felt despair; he knew he had no strength left to dodge. The Dark Orb loomed before his eyes, threatening to devour all that was his.

At the brink of life and death, White Mitchell suddenly closed his eyes, and a strong determination surged in his heart.

“Moore, it’s too soon to say, who will fall is not yet certain!”

As soon as the words fell, White Mitchell lifted his Longsword once again, and quickly lunged at Moore.

White Mitchell closed his eyes, transforming into a gust of wind as he instantly closed in on Moore.

But as he approached Moore, he abandoned his previous sharp sword techniques, instead opting for close-quarters hand-to-hand combat.

Moore was shocked by White Mitchell’s decisive action. He had assumed that White Mitchell had lost his confidence and strength in fighting, and hadn’t expected him to choose such a reckless style of combat. A wave of hesitation washed over him, as he knew the dangers of fighting such a desperate opponent like White Mitchell.

The two were tightly entwined, exchanging blow for blow. Each punch carried tremendous power, vibrating through their bodies. They alternated between offense and defense, showing no mercy.

The scent of blood permeated the battlefield. Both of them bore injuries. White Mitchell’s body was covered in a mixed array of deep and shallow knife wounds, blood oozing without pause. But he did not back down, maintaining a firm determination.

Moore was no exception, wounded by White Mitchell’s fists and kicks. He had initially relied on the immense power of the Dark Energy, but in the face of White Mitchell’s relentless hand-to-hand combat, he began to feel inadequate.

As the battle unfolded, Moore slowly fell behind. His attacks were no longer as powerful as they initially were, becoming rather feeble and ineffective. Yet, White Mitchell’s bravery escalated, his punches and kicks becoming even more incisive. Every move he made seemed to harness the strength of his entire body.

Ultimately, White Mitchell’s punch landed squarely on Moore’s chest. A dull thud echoed in the air, and Moore was instantly thrown back several steps, his body punctured.

Blood gushed from his chest. He looked at White Mitchell, struggling against a sense of shock and disbelief.

“Are you mad!”

Moore’s voice trembled as he incredulously stared at his wound. He had thought his Dark Energy made him invincible, only to underestimate the tenacity within White Mitchell’s heart.

White Mitchell ignored Moore’s shouts, stepping forward once again, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Moore. He knew he had no way out and that his only chance of survival was to give everything he had.

“Moore, do you really think Dark Energy can make you invincible? You’re so naive. I am a righteous person, how could I let you tarnish the reputation of the righteous path!”

White Mitchell’s voice resonated with resolution and defiance. He swung his fist once again, ruthlessly aiming for Moore’s vital part. The sound of his fist piercing through the air filled the battlefield, releasing a surge of ferocious energy.

Moore’s eyes widened. He instinctively tried to dodge, but he was too late to avoid White Mitchell’s punch.

The punch landed savagely onto Moore’s abdomen, eliciting a scream of pain from him. The Dark Energy within him was instantly torn apart. Overwhelmed by inexpressible pain, his body was hurled away like a kite without string.

He landed clumsily on the ground, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, most of his clothes ripped apart. Moore stared at himself incredulously, unable to believe that someone from the righteous path could possess such terrifying power.

“You lunatic! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Moore bellowed in desolation, feeling the threat of life and death, his heart filled with endless fear.

White Mitchell didn’t respond, already immersed in the throes of battle. His flurry of punches and kicks continued unabated, each carrying a devastating force.

Moore dodged frantically, looking for an opportunity to strike back. But the speed and power of White Mitchell were so daunting, all he could do was watch as his body was being torn apart, bloody and bruised.

Time seemed to stand still, silence engulfing the surroundings of the battlefield. All that echoed were White Mitchell’s heavy breaths and Moore’s screams.

Finally, Moore could no longer resist White Mitchell’s assaults, collapsing on the ground, severely injured and almost immobile.

White Mitchell slowly halted his attacks, looking at Moore’s pitiful state, a pang of pity rising in his heart. He knew he had won, that Moore no longer posed a threat.

Moore coughed out mouthfuls of blood as he strained to lift his body, his eyes filled with anger and unwillingness.

“White Mitchell, you forced this upon me!” Moore declared resentfully.

He had never thought that he would be forced into such a state by a novice.

But, the reality was right in front of him: he was rendered helpless by White Mitchell.

However, Moore clearly did not want to sit and wait for death.

He gritted his teeth, his whole body radiating an ominous aura. He performed his final secret technique–“Nine Heavens Demon Hide”.

Suddenly, a thick fog enveloped the entire battlefield, encircling White Mitchell. His vision was obscured, and he could feel an invisible pressure pushing against him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In the thick fog, Moore started to fade away, merging into the mystical ambiance. He began to deploy his family’s age-old unique techniques for a counterattack.

A sense of foreboding plunged in White Mitchell’s heart – he knew that Moore’s move was no ordinary feat. This heir of the Moore family, with the aid of the secret technique, had become the unprecedented power amongst the Martial World. He was now using this technique with his full strength, indicating its tremendous power.

White Mitchell steadied his mind, calming himself down. To defeat Moore, he couldn’t be intimidated by his aura; he had to stay composed. This, he deeply understood.

Suddenly, White Mitchell sensed a chill down his back. He quickly turned around but he could see nothing, just a wall of pitch black.

Just then, a shadow sprang at him from behind. White Mitchell managed to dodge it thanks to his instinct, but his leg suffered a gash.

Moore appeared in front of White Mitchell, his fists were shrouded with the dark energy. Moore grinned ominously and swung his fists directly at White Mitchell.

White Mitchell quickly raised his arm to block but was pushed back by the overpowering force. His expression turned grim, Moore’s power was much more formidable than he had imagined.

But White Mitchell didn’t give up. He wouldn’t allow himself to be defeated by an antagonist.

He cleared his mind, gripping his sword in his right hand as his True Qi erupted fiercely. The sword brilliance sparkled, drawing arches through the darkness, lunging towards Moore.

Moore scowled slightly; he hadn’t thought that White Mitchell’s strength would have grown so much. His attitude changed from underestimating to taking him seriously.

Amidst the intertwining moves, Sword Qi and dark energy collided with a loud crash. White Mitchell writhed in pain as every attack he launched was deflected by Moore, while Moore’s attacks only grew fiercer.

White Mitchell was ridden with wounds, yet he didn’t back down. He endured the pain with his flesh and blood, showing no signs of retreat. He believed that as long as he didn’t give up, he could certainly defeat Moore.

Time ticked by; Moore’s attacks seemed to grow increasingly fearsome, while White Mitchell felt his strength waning. He felt that he had reached his physical limit, unable to hold on any longer.

“You haven’t won yet!” yelled White Mitchell, leaping up with a soaring sword chop aiming directly at Moore’s weak point.

White Mitchell gave his all, spraying the entirety of his True Qi from his body, forming an unrivaled sword technique.

The radiating sword beam pierced through the darkness, stabbing directly through Moore’s body.

Moore roared out in agony, falling heavily to the ground, panting weakly.

White Mitchell stood in place, deeply savoring his victorious joy. He wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the exhaustion throughout his body. But he knew that all this was worth it.

He walked up to Moore, looking at his powerless form and couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.

“Moore, you could have chosen the right path, but you choose to go astray. I hope you’ll find your true abode in the next world,” whispered White Mitchell, trailing a finger lightly over Moore’s brow.

Moore’s gaze gradually cleared, watching White Mitchell’s leaving figure, his heart filled with sorrow and regret.

White Mitchell didn’t look back. He knew he had fulfilled his mission. As he walked across the battlefield, the light-heartedness and fulfillment gave him an unprecedented feeling of tranquility. This battle, he had defeated the evil, preserving the justice.

He didn’t leave any traces, just quietly left, allowing the world to follow its course. He knew that whatever hardships he encounters in the future, he would face them with courage, as long as he stood firm in his beliefs.

Peace resumed in his absence, free from the storms. White Mitchell’s figure melded into the horizon until he disappeared from people’s memory. But this legend would be remembered through generations; he remained a hero, a man of reverence and admiration.

The battle between our hero White Mitchell and antagonist Moore came to its climax; Moore unleashed his desperate secret technique, “Nine Heavens Demon Hide,” cloaking the entire battlefield in a thick fog. Surrounded by the fog, White Mitchell felt oppressed and it was difficult to breathe. He understood that if he wished to defeat Moore, he couldn’t let this predicament frighten him off, he needed to keep a cool head.

Suddenly, White Mitchell felt a chill coming from behind. He instinctively turned around, but couldn’t see anything, just an ocean of darkness. The next moment, a shadow flashed, White Mitchell dodged, but his leg was cut.

Moore materialized in front of White Mitchell, his fist coated with dark energy. He grinned maliciously, striking hard at White Mitchell. White Mitchell quickly raised his arm to defend, but he was hit back by the tremendous force. His face turned grim, experiencing first-hand the power Moore possessed.

Nevertheless, White Mitchell didn’t harbor any thoughts of giving up in his heart, deeply believing that as long as he hung on, he could definitely triumph over Moore. His body was covered in wounds, he withstood the intense pain, showing no signs of backing down. He decided to do his best, lashing out with his True Qi. White Mitchell swung his sword, summoning all his might.

The sword glare was dazzling, piercing through the darkness, penetrating Moore’s body directly. Moore gave a painful roar, crashing heavily to the ground, breathing unevenly and weakly.